I want to take control of things, to show him how much I want him with me. To show him that Drew means nothing to me. With everything I’ve been remembering about my past, I feel older in a lot of ways, like tiny pieces of those experiences are making an impression on who I am today. I’m not feeling all that much like the sixteen-year-old I see in the mirror anymore. “I do want to. All I want is to be with you.”

Griffon leans back against the pillows and I straddle his body, undoing each button on my shirt as he watches, not saying a word. Despite his silence, I can see him fighting for control, and I feel powerful with every gesture. When my shirt’s undone, he reaches up with two fingers and eases it off my shoulders until there’s nothing left but my ankh and the black lacy bra I stole from Kat ages ago, hoping for an occasion when someone besides me would see it.

Griffon’s hand trembles slightly as he reaches up and strokes my neck, working his way down to my stomach and the top of my jeans. “You are so beautiful. The best part of every day is when I catch a glimpse of you, even if it’s just for a few moments.”

In response, I ease his T-shirt up over his head and toss it onto the floor, biting my lip at the sight of the smooth brown skin that seems to shine in the dim light. I reach out to touch the muscles on his stomach, feeling his desire as if it’s a caress washing over me in waves, and the intensity of it scares me. All of a sudden I want this part to be over, to be on the other side of the big event so that we can move forward together. It’s not that I don’t want Griffon to be my first time, because I do; it’s just that there’s so much expectation put on one moment in time that my heart starts to beat hard with anxiety.

Griffon pulls me to him, oblivious of the conflict going on inside my head. I try to quiet my fears and focus on the sensations, knowing I won’t ever forget any of it, so I don’t want to ruin it by thinking too much. I close my eyes and try to surrender myself to his touch, to the vibrations between us that are increasing by the second.

In the middle of a kiss, Griffon tilts his head back and looks me in the eyes, his thumb stroking the back of my neck. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can without sounding forced. “Of course.”

I lean in to kiss him again, but Griffon pushes himself into a sitting position on the pillows. “I’m no empath, but I can tell you’re lying.”

I can’t meet his eyes, knowing that I’m blowing what is supposed to be one of the most special moments in our lives. “I’m not lying. Everything’s fine. I want to do this, I already told you.”

“I hear you saying it, but I don’t believe you. Cole, if you’re not ready for this, we can wait. It’s no big deal. I want to be with you. Not just have sex with you.”

“I’m totally screwing this up,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning my back to him. “You went to all this trouble, and I’m sitting here second-guessing everything. I want to be with you. All the way. It’s just . . .”

“It’s just that you’re not totally ready,” he finishes for me. “And I didn’t go to all this trouble only to get you into bed.” He reaches out and tilts my head toward him. “Although, don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty much all I think about these days.” His grin eases the guilt, but I know that he’s telling the truth. “I did this so that we could spend an evening alone, have some good food, and let the rest of it happen when it happens.” Griffon pulls me back down onto the bed and I ease myself into the natural curve of his body, my back pressing into his chest as he puts one leg around mine in a comforting knot. For the first time tonight, I relax and enjoy the feeling of his skin next to mine, not worrying about the expectations that might come with it.

We must have dozed off, because when I open my eyes again, the bedside clock says 10:34. It takes a quick second to remember where I am, but Griffon’s easy breathing and his strong arm around my waist brings everything back. I shift carefully in the bed so that I can watch him while he sleeps, the long dark lashes brushing his cheeks and his fingers twitching slightly as he dreams. I reach up and touch one of the tight curls that cover his head. He’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, and I make a quick wish that I can spend many more nights exactly like this. I ease myself into the crook of his arm so that I can feel his heart beating until he stretches and I can tell he’s awake too.

“Hey there,” Griffon says, his voice soft from sleep and a wide grin on his face. He kisses my neck and echoes my thoughts. “I want to wake up like this every day.”

“I was just thinking the very same thing.” I put my head onto his bare chest, amazed at how well we fit together. We stay like that, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts, until I glance at his clock again and realize another half hour has gone by.

“I should go,” I say, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

“Why?” Griffon pushes himself up against the headboard. He lifts my hand and kisses the palm, an old-fashioned gesture that somehow works for him. “I’d love it if you’d stay. Plus I’m starving, and we haven’t eaten yet.”

The thought of spending the entire night in his arms is tempting. And I am pretty hungry. “Are you sure? Even without . . . you know.”

Griffon laughs. “Yes. Even without ‘you know.’ I’m going to run downstairs and get the food. You just stay there and look beautiful in my bed for a few more minutes.” He glances back at me. “Is it wrong that I love how that sounds?”

I stretch my arms over my head and arch my back, feeling his eyes on my body, knowing the effect it’s having on him. “I love it too.”

Griffon shakes his head. “You are making it so difficult to leave this room. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

After a few quick texts to Mom, my plans for the night are set with surprisingly little effort. I realize I’m still wearing just my jeans and bra, so I reach onto the floor and grab one of Griffon’s T-shirts, the spicy scent of him surrounding me as I pull it over my head and settle back onto the pillows.

Nine

Olivia runs down the hallway of the studio and smacks right into Herr Steinberg. The top of her blond head barely comes to his shoulder, and I can imagine what’s going through her mind as she tilts back to look up at him, her green eyes wide with fear. As much as I love him, Steinberg scared the crap out of me when I was her age.

“Are you in a race, Ms. Miller?” Herr Steinberg asks, looking straight down at her, his face serious.

Olivia’s voice is brave as she answers, “No, sir. Just thirsty. Miss Nicole said I could go get some juice. Sir.”

“You may continue,” Steinberg says, his eyes stern. “But you will walk in my studio from now on.” I have no idea how he’s keeping a straight face. I have to hide my smile behind the sheet music in my hand.

“Yes, sir,” Olivia says. She looks back down the hallway at me and I nod toward the lounge. She doesn’t need to be told twice and takes off with a walk so fast it makes her whole body wiggle.

I take a deep breath before calling Zander into the practice room. “Ready?” I say to him with a smile plastered on my face. I have no idea whether my plan is going to work or blow up in my face.

He grunts and drags his cello into the room as I shut the soundproof door behind us.

“Wait a second,” I say, as he starts to unlatch his case. “For the first part of the lesson, we’re going to listen, not play.”

Zander pauses and looks at me suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

I pull out my phone. “Well, I know that the cello isn’t exactly your favorite thing.”

Zander gives a snorting laugh in response. “You think?”

I glance up at the window in the practice-room door. “And I also know that your mom is going to keep dragging you here no matter how much either of us complains about it.” I tap the screen on the phone. “So I thought I’d make you a deal. I’ll only teach you to play cool new music instead of the classical stuff you hate if you try not to be such a jerk about it.”

That gets him to break into a tiny smile, and I feel almost rewarded. “Like, what kind of music?”

“Well, lots of musicians are doing amazing things with the cello these days.” I hit Play on the video I’ve loaded. “Like this woman. Her name’s Rebecca Roudman. This is my favorite song she does—it’s a cover called ‘Sweet Child of Mine.’ “

Zander scoots his chair over so that he can see the small screen better. As he tilts his head down near mine, I get that particular little-boy smell of sweat, dirt, and something almost innocent coming off of him. He doesn’t say anything as we watch her destroy the song on her cello, and when it’s done he looks up at me. “What kind of cello was that?”

“An electric cello. Pretty cool, huh?”

He nods quickly. “It was almost like it was singing the words.”

“Exactly. When you can’t sing, the instrument can do it for you.”

“Can you teach me to play stuff like that?”

“Yep. We’ll start out easy and then get to the hard stuff as you get better. Rebecca’s even from San Francisco, so maybe we can all go to one of her shows sometime.”

“That would be cool,” he agrees.

The look on his face almost makes me want to reach out and hug him, but something about Zander tells me he’s not the hugging type. We spend the rest of the lesson watching videos of contemporary cellists, and I teach him a few new notes so we don’t get in trouble for just watching videos the whole time. It’s by far the nicest lesson I’ve ever had with him, and I’m almost sad to see him go when it’s over.

I’m putting my music away when Steinberg’s assistant sticks her head in the doorway. “There’s a guy here for you.” She looks at me with curiosity. “And he’s totally gorgeous.”

I blush and look down. Griffon’s early. “Thanks. I’ll be right out.” I can’t carry my cello on his bike, so I pack it up to bring to Herr Steinberg’s office. It’ll be safe there until tomorrow.

I know I’m smiling as I walk down the hallway, but I can’t help it. Every time I think about seeing Griffon, I feel like I’m about to burst. The Etch A Sketch picture he made last time he was here is on a shelf in the lounge, and whenever I pass it, I feel a little jolt of pleasure.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming here.” The Australian accent startles me, and I look up to see Drew standing at the end of the hallway. “But I couldn’t wait any longer to see you again.”

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Panic takes over as I glance around. This is my territory, my safe place, and he has no business anywhere near it.

Drew ignores my question. “I need you to give me a chance. To explain things.”

“I don’t want you to explain anything else,” I say, trying to keep my voice down. The truth is that I don’t want to be convinced. Admitting he’s right will change everything. Some people are staring at us with curiosity, so I push him into an open practice room and close the door. “I have a different life now. This has nothing to do with Allison.”

Drew’s face looks desperate as he speaks. “You don’t remember,” he says. “Or you would never say that.”

I fold my arms and try to block out the few memories I have of the time Connor and I were together. I don’t want to remember how I felt when he gave me the pendant. Or how I felt when he was led out the door for the last time. I think of Griffon’s easy smile and it grounds me, so that I can face Drew again. “There’s nothing you can say that will change anything. I’m with the person who’s destined for me.”

“You throw that word around pretty easily,” he says.

“It’s true. Griffon isn’t just Akhet. He’s Sekhem. And we’re meant to be together.”

Something dark passes over his features with this news. “Sekhem? So were the two of you happy together in a past lifetime? Did you sacrifice everything just to be with each other? Have you spent the past few centuries hoping against hope that you’d find the essence of the person you once loved so completely?”

“That’s not fair,” I say, trying not to absorb the meaning behind his words. “I’ve only just become Akhet. I have no idea what I’ve been doing the past few centuries—those are your memories, not mine.” The image of Griffon on the executioner’s stand passes through my head. How we knew each other then isn’t important. “I’m with Griffon now. That’s what matters.”

Drew seems to shrink back at my words. He can’t look at me as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, black velvet jewelry box. “I made these for you.”